Sam's Declassified SSG: The Second Day  Sick Day
by BlueRoyKaz
Summary: Another misadventure to add to the growing legend that is Sam, DJ, and Larry. DJ's sick and Sam's taking care of her. Larry takes over the Guide in his place. What could go wrong? Read the story to find out. Ch. 1 is up! Please review after you read!


**Chapter 1: In Sickness or Health **

Author's Note: You all may have realized that the title of this story is labeled **Sam's Declassified: the Second Day**, but please don't misunderstand – although the stories are in chronological order, they are not immediate sequels to each other. Each story could take place hours, days, weeks, maybe even months after the previous one. I just wanted to clear that up. Enjoy.

* * *

Fall had come in softly; no one had noticed its gradual approach. The students of James K. Polk Middle School had just woken up to a morning laden with falling leaves and vivid hues of red and gold outside their windows. The trees were shedding their leaves, and a nice chilly breeze had settled over the city. As far as the eye could see, a brilliant sea of bright red and gold leaves stretched on endlessly. It was truly a sight to behold. Every person couldn't help but stop and stare at this soft beauty – for one moment they just discontinued what they were doing and enjoyed the view.

DJ, however, was cursing nature with every single foul word in her vast repertoire of foul vocabulary. Why? Fall was not a good season for DJ – every time it came around, she got sick with a hideous bout of cold and fever. The two always found their way into her, hand in hand – one never came without the other, and they always went together. She despised fall – a horrible season to her. Today was the day she was sick. She lay shivering, in her pajamas, underneath the covers of her bed. Marilyn Bigby was taking her temperature.

DJ sneezed, and a worried Sam stood in the doorway. He was already dressed and ready for school. He waited for his mother's verdict on DJ's condition.

Marilyn sighed, and removed the thermometer from DJ's mouth. DJ's cheeks were flushed a blotchy red. Her normally twinkling emerald green eyes were dull and opaque. She muttered another foul curse.

"Language, DJ." Marilyn sighed. "Your fever is at 101 right now. Fall just isn't your season, huh. Every year . . ." She ran a hand through her hair absentmindedly.

James Bigby, Sam's father, appeared at the doorway. "How is she Marilyn?"

"She's not going to make it, James. We may have to cancel that meeting."

Sam's parents were supposed to be attending an important meeting today – all day – but with DJ in this condition, it looked like it would have to be cancelled. That was not a good thing. But what choice did they have?

James, however, didn't give up so easily. He turned to his son. "Sam, I have a favor to ask of you."

"You want me to stay behind and take care of DJ." Sam's reply was automatic.

Marilyn chuckled from across the room. "Like father, like son."

"Are you up to it?" James asked.

"Yeah, sure." Sam shrugged off his backpack and walked over to the sick DJ. "I can handle her."

"Then it's settled." James disappeared.

Marilyn began to walk after him; but first she gave Sam instructions. "Make sure that you give her medicine every couple of hours . . ."

"I got it, Mom."

"You don't have any important tests today?"

"No, Mom."

"No projects due?"

"No, Mom."

"I want you to ask Larry to get your homework for you today. Call him up as soon as we leave."

"Yes, Mom, I will."

"Okay, well, then good-bye! And get well DJ – we'll back soon. I'll be calling on my cell when I get the chance, so . . ."

"Mom! I got it – you can go now." Sam said impatiently.

She was already gone. Sam stood guard at DJ's side, waiting for her to wake up and get better.

* * *

Larry stood nervously at Sam's front door. The bus would be coming any minute now. Where was Sam? He had asked Larry to meet him here . . .

He appeared. "Larry thanks a lot. DJ's sick and my parents will be out all day, so I need to take care of her."

"So you need me to pick up your homework for you guys."

"That, and handle the tips for today." Sam reached out and gave Larry his Declassified School Survival Guide. Larry's eyes widened. He immediately tried to push it away.

"Sam, I couldn't. You're the tip guy – not me."

Sam was dead serious. "Larry, they're going to need those tips. You're the only one I trust with them. Don't be so nervous; you'll do fine, trust me." His expression turned thoughtful. "But if you DO screw up, make sure you get the Guide back to me in one piece okay?" And with those cheerful, inspiring words he shut the door leaving Larry to do his bidding.

Larry stood petrified outside the door. What was he going to do? Sam obviously didn't realize what a tremendous responsibility he carried. Larry saw how the people reacted towards Sam – they treated him like a god! People could not image Sam without his Guide, or vice versa. Without him, society at school would collapse and become primitive, dangerous, and wild. People would revert back to their primal nature without those tips. And he, Larry, would be at the center of it all!

Then an idea came to him. An idea, that under normal circumstances, DJ would have punched him to a bloody pulp for. But to Larry it was pure genius.

Smiling slightly, he headed toward the bus stop. He had a plan.

* * *

Sam was sure that he could handle DJ – it was time to prove to his parents, once and for all, what a responsible kid he could be (Sam had a notorious tendency to get into extreme bouts of trouble accidentally – evidence being several weeks ago, when he got into a fight with a nasty bully). Humming to a song (off-key as it was) he entered DJ's room –

His adrenaline kicked into gear. DJ's bed was empty. Sam's eyes scanned the room, but still no sign of her. CRAP! He had been gone only for a couple of minutes, and he had already screwed up! She was gone! He began to search erratically on hands and knees for her –

"What are you doing?" a tired voice spoke behind him. He whirled around. A tired and bleary-eyed DJ was just emerging from the bathroom. She stood there staring at him, in her pajamas and barefoot. Her reddish-gold hair was tousled and bed-ridden.

"DJ!" Sam was glad to see her. "You're not dead!"

"Not yet, Wonder Boy." (Wonder Boy – an odd nickname DJ picked out for Sam when he was six, because of his wondrous ability to get out of any bad situation. It was an affectionate, private nickname that only she knew about and used). DJ crawled back into her bed, and covered herself up. "Now do me a favor, and leave me alone to die in peace."

"You're not going to die, DJ." Sam said firmly. "Not under my care."

DJ groaned, and not from the pain of the fever infecting her. "Great. I'm real assured." But deep down, she was actually extremely grateful to Sam. Being sick is one thing – but being sick and all by your lonesome is torture. With Sam here, the fever would be bearable. DJ's biggest personal fear – being alone. With no real family, that was an easy fear to gain – but not an easy one to live with. The nightmares she had . . .

DJ shuddered inwardly.

"You okay?" Sam asked worriedly.

"No." DJ retorted.

Sam smiled. "Yeah, you'll be just fine DJ." He left to go fetch her medicine. DJ snuggled comfortably underneath her covers. She was feeling better already with Sam at her side. With luck, the day (and hopefully the fever) would pass quickly.

How wrong she was. The second day had just begun.

* * *

Downstairs, Sam made the mistake that would ultimately cause him to live up to his nickname of 'Wonder Boy'. He had accidentally mixed up the medicine for DJ with something else. Sam was supposed to give DJ something to help alleviate the pain – a children's medicine. But, unfortunately, he had misplaced that and picked up something much more potent. Smiling to himself, and humming off-key he returned upstairs to give DJ the medicine.

The rest of the day went downhill from there.

* * *

As soon as the bus reached school, Larry ran off to Gordy's closet. Gordy was the 40-year-old janitor that worked there. Larry, DJ, and Sam had recently made friends with the janitor. He had made them promise to visit them every now and then, if they needed help.

Larry needed help. He needed to ask Gordy for some parts and components.

The idea was brilliant! Pure Larry genius. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Oh yeah – he DID. Smiling at his ingenuity (and in what would be DJ's opinion, stupidity) he knocked on the door.

A crash resounded from inside. A sleepy looking Gordy answered the door. "Look, I told you people a hundred times already; I'LL HAVE THE RENT, WHEN I HAVE IT!"

Gordy then noticed the terrified and confused Larry standing directly in front of him. His expression turned chagrined. "Ah, it's you Larry." He noticed that Larry was alone. "Where's the other two?"

"Sick. Well, just DJ. Sam stayed at home to take care of her."

"What, his parents couldn't do that?"

"They have to go to a long meeting. It's probably going to last all day or something."

Gordy seemed to consider that. "They must be pretty busy. Say, what do his parents do anyway?"

"They both work at the hospital."

"Ah. You mean the one near the middle of the city?"

Larry's brow furrowed. He looked confused again. "No, the other one."

Gordy looked puzzled. "What other one?"

"You know – the big, tall one that doesn't really look like a hospital. It looks like a giant office building, really. It's like all black on the outside. You can't see inside at all."

"Oh, THAT one. I thought that place was for something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, but I last heard it was being used for some sort of research – but there was an accident and they had to shut it down. I didn't know they turned it into a hospital."

Larry shook his head. "I don't know where you heard that, Gordy, but it's always been a hospital. That's what my and Sam's parents have always told me."

"Huh. I really need to go out more often." He was silent for a moment, and then he smiled at Larry. "So, what's on your mind Larry?"

"I need your help in building something. You see, Sam entrusted me with his tips . . ."

Gordy's grin broadened. "That's good!"

"No, it's not!" Larry was panicking. "You don't know how much people depend on Sam and his tips – they're like animals! Desperate, hungry, wild animals looking for a meal!" Larry was going crazy with fear.

"I think you're making this a little too complicated. Relax, it's not like the whole school is dependent on these tips. It's not like a mob of people is going to come running down this hallway with pitchforks and torches looking for Sam and his tips." Gordy seemed quite amused by his joke.

"THERE HE IS!" Larry turned toward the source of the noise and gasped.

A mob of people stood at the end of the hallway holding pitchforks and torches – they were frenzied, wild, and desperate. Clearly, Sam had underestimated how much people needed his tips. One of them pointed at Larry (who was holding the Guide) and let out a bloodcurdling yell. The mob charged.

Gordy yanked Larry out of danger by pulling him into his Janitor's Closet and shutting the door. The mob flew by without even noticing.

"You were saying?" Larry asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, okay, I probably jinxed that. I wonder where they got those torches from." He rubbed his chin in thought. Then he remembered. "Oh, yeah, I was selling the torches to them just this morning. Before you arrived." He shrugged at Larry. "Sorry."

"Thanks a lot, Gordy. Then where'd the pitchforks come from?!"

"It was a bargain. Every torch came with a free pitchfork. It was a special 2-for-1 deal today." He shrugged again. Larry groaned.

"Well, anyway, I need your help in building a TipBot. " Larry began to take some tools out of his backpack.

"A TipBot, eh? You sure about that?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing. I just have experience in robotics."

Larry looked skeptical. "You do?"

"Yeah, I do! In fact, I could build it for you!"

The bell rang. "You mean it?" Larry asked, hopeful.

Gordy clapped Larry on the back. "Yeah, I do! Just give me the blueprints, and I'll have it ready by lunch."

"Gee, thanks Gordy!"

"No problem, Larry." Gordy pushed him outside the janitor closet, waved, and shut the door. He heard Larry scream – the mob had just located him once more. Gordy winced as he heard them catch up to the running boy.

He took a look at the schematics for the TipBot. Hmmm . . .

"Oh, Larry you could do so much better than this." Gordy pulled out a Sharpie from seemingly nowhere, and began to make some 'improvements' to Larry's design.

* * *

"DJ, I've got your medicine here." Sam knocked on the door and stepped quietly inside. A somewhat delirious DJ greeted him from the confines of her bed. She waved weakly, and grinned.

"About time", she muttered. "Oh no, take your time Sam, it's not like I'm sick and dying. You just take your time, take it easy, and rest your feet on the chair – it's no big rush. No pressure. Don't worry about poor old DJ wasting away in her bed." She sniffled.

Sam checked his Mickey Mouse glow-in-the-dark watch. "I was only gone for a couple of minutes, DJ."

She rubbed her bloodshot eyes tiredly. "Really?"

"Yes."

DJ groaned. "I'm sorry, Sam. You know what I'm like when I get sick."

**DJ's POV **

**Ugh, when I get sick, I start to go a little stir crazy. I remember one year ago, that I went berserk and pretended that I was King Kong for the day. Mr. and Mrs. Bigby were worried sick about me, and the fact that I ran away from home (not intentionally of course, but under the influence of medicine and my fever) did not alleviate that worry. In fact, it just increased to it. Anyway, they went looking all over town and they finally found me on top of a radio antenna for the local radio station. I had climbed all the way to the top – wearing nothing more than my pajamas – and was acting like a total loon. You know, swinging around, beating my chest, making monkey sounds. Luckily, the police and the fire department had already been dispatched because of nearby complaints of 'girls crying extremely loudly'. Oh no, it wasn't me. I was making monkey sounds remember? The 'girls crying extremely loudly' was really Sam and Larry, who had the unfortunate honor of being my two best friends. I had – in my fever induced deliriousness – taken them both hostage, and forced them to climb up the radio tower with me. Needless to say, several harrowing moments later the rescue people managed to convince me to come down (with bananas – how humiliating) with the nice firemen (who were really kind and candid about the whole absurd situation). Sam and Larry took a little more persuasion however – they were terrified of heights. Luckily though, the banana thing that worked with me also worked with them, too. Who would've thought? **

"Yeah, I do know what you're like when you get sick." He eyed her nervously from across the room. "You're not going to go ape on me, are you?"

DJ chuckled. "No, Sam. Well, not unless you give me my medicine."

"Oh, right." He sat down on DJ's bed, and popped a white pill right into her mouth. She gulped down some water. DJ sank bank into her bed, the effects of the medicine already taking effect. Within seconds her terrible headache had disappeared, and she felt drowsy. Amazing.

"Whoa." DJ was in heaven right now. Sam leaned over her, checking on her.

"How are you feeling?"

DJ giggled and muttered something incoherently. Sam leaned in closer trying to hear her. "Uh, DJ, I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?"

"Monkey." DJ giggled again.

Sam noticed that DJ's eyes were out of focus, and also that her pupils were dilated. The emerald green iridescent color could barely be seen. He became extremely worried – was that supposed to happen?

He didn't have much time to ponder that question. Seconds after the thought crossed his mind, DJ's fist came crashing into his face and everything went black. As Sam fell, the pill bottle fell with him. The last thing he saw before the world turned dark, were four words written boldly on the label:

**FOR ADULT USE ONLY**

OH CRAP.

* * *

Sam woke some time later with a large, pounding headache. Cringing, he sat up and assessed his surroundings. DJ was nowhere to be seen. The only thing missing were her sneakers.

He stood up, and his headache grew in size and tenacity. It felt like his brain was banging itself on the inside of his skull. The image only increased the pain more (because he was thinking about it).

This was not good. Where the hell was DJ?

Sam saw the note on the desk. It was hastily scrawled: the DJ he knew took her time, and wrote in neat, precise cursive. This was chicken scratch writing. The note said the following:

**Dear Sam, **

**I don't know what you gave me, but it's sure working good! I feel great! Going to school now, okay? I'll be fine, don't worry! Maybe even try out for the volleyball team! Going to ask Jak if he wants a girlfriend! Later! **

**Sincerely, **

**Danielle Jennifer **

Something was definitely wrong with DJ: she never wrote in chicken scratch; she would never in a million years ask Jak (that strange boy with the glasses) out for a date; she's intimidated by the volleyball team; and she never signs her writing with her real name. Sam knew what he had to do, and smiled grimly. It was going to be another one of those days.

The note floated slowly to the ground and landed silently. The hand holding it was gone; Sam had already left using that amazing speed of his. The house was empty; silent. Nothing moved.

Sam sprinted outside on his way to James K. Polk Middle School.

It looked like he was going to school after all.

* * *

It was lunch time for the students of James K. Polk. People queued up receiving their school lunches, and sat down with their friends chatting about the events of the day so far. It was all normal, normal. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

Yeah, all was well. Then an explosion rocked the halls of James K. Polk. The students fell instantly silent, wondering what had happened.

Larry charged through the cafeteria doors, looking like he had just survived hell. His glasses were askew and cracked slightly; his shirt was tattered and burned; his jeans were in shreds; and he brought a smell of smoke with him.

Gordy was right behind him, looking the same. His eyes were wild. "It's ALIVE!" he shouted gleefully. He did a strange little dance that involved clapping his hands.

The doors opened once more. Larry squeaked a little, and jumped backwards as the students eyed the newcomer. It was a silver robot that reminded them strongly of C-3PO from Star Wars. He eyed them all. Then he spoke in an artificial voice full of good humor and cheer. The TipBot pointed at one of the students, Porcupine.

"You are in violation with Tip #147 involving certain dress code requirements. Do you comply?"

Porcupine looked bewildered. "What?" he stammered.

"You are in violation with Tip #147 involving certain dress code requirements. Do you comply?"

"What IS Tip #147?!"

The TipBot recited from memory. "Tip #147: Dress to impress."

Porcupine looked down at his clothing; he was wearing a simple T-shirt with blue jeans and sneakers. What was wrong with that?!

"Will you rectify your mistake?"

"NO! I look fine!"

"Very well, then. You leave me little recourse." The TipBot's arm began to transform itself rapidly, turning itself into . . .

Uh-oh.

Porcupine shrieked and dived for cover as an energy beam sizzled straight through the spot where had been standing previously. The beam flew through the air, and exploded on a spot on the ground leaving a fist-sized hole in the floor.

The cafeteria erupted into chaos. The TipBot recited another tip. "You are all in violation with Tip #543: No running in the halls during school hours! Will you all comply?"

No answer. "Very well, then. You leave me little recourse." The TipBot began to bombard the cafeteria with exploding laser beams.

Larry whirled toward Gordy. "What did you do? It wasn't supposed to have a weapon's system installed!"

"It wasn't? What's a DestructionBot without a weapons system?"

"A what? I didn't ask for a DestructionBot; I asked for a TipBot!"

Gordy's jaw fell open. "OH! That explains the design – I thought you said DestructionBot." He assessed the berserk TipBot. "Yeah, I made some slight improvements."

Another explosion racked the cafeteria. Some ceiling debris fell from above.

Larry cradled his head. Oh great, what had he done now? He'd rather face the tip-starved hoards of students than the TipBot . . .

Wait a minute! A plan formulated on his mind! A way to get out of this situation. But that meant he had to round up every single student in the school for this – if they were still alive, that was. And even if they were, they probably wouldn't want to talk to him. They'd probably prefer to kill him . . .

A red haired figure dashed past his vision – DJ? But she was supposed to be sick!

"Hey, Larry. I like what you did with the place", she said dreamily. She skipped out of sight. Larry stared out after her.

Gordy said, "Wow, she must be whacked out on something."

Sam skidded into view. He stopped in front of Larry. "Have you seen DJ?!"

Gordy nodded. "Yeah, she went out that way." He pointed in the direction DJ had skipped off to. Sam thanked him and sprinted off.

"He's pretty fast. Might want to consider joining track." Gordy said.

"Sam's been fast his whole entire life." Larry said. He had to put his plan into motion. But he would need Sam and DJ's help. So, friends first. He ran after Sam with Gordy in tow.

It was another day at James K. Polk Middle School. DJ was drugged and acting loony; Sam trying to rescue DJ from herself (this brought up unpleasant memories from a year ago, involving a radio antenna and bananas); the TipBot was going berserk; and Larry was on the run to help Sam (and avoid the inevitable mob).

Yeah, just another day at James K. Polk Middle School.

* * *

Well, here it is. The next chapter in the misadventures of Sam, DJ, and Larry. I've been a bit disappointed by how much reviews my previous story garnered. And I'm a little ashamed that my other story Ned's Declassified: Sins of the Past is still unfinished – people are still reviewing it! I'm a little nervous – I left people on a cliffhanger. But what can I do? The story was screwed up, and I couldn't fix it. I promise to you all, that I will finish it. But not now. Don't know when, but hopefully soon. I really want you all to wait with me, and enjoy Sam, DJ, and Larry's stories. They DO tie in eventually with Ned, Moze, and Cookie's stories later on. Just bear with me, here, while I get this all sorted out. Please, read and review! REVIEW, PLEASE! I will keep updating as long as I can, as soon as I can. But school is coming soon, and my schedule's going to be booked. Bear with me, and review some more please! Give these three the chance they deserve – you've read my previous works; you shouldn't have doubts about my writing ability. Trust me. Oh, and make sure you're clear in your reviews, too. I've been getting some pretty . . . vague, I shall say – reviews lately. I need to know if you liked it, and if so what you liked about it, and what you didn't like about it (but if there wasn't anything you disliked, then that's okay too). Feedback, please! Thanks again, and review, review, review! Later.

BlueRoyKaz


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